


They Did My Girl Dirty

by Lewdsmokesoldier



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Aunt/Nephew Incest, F/M, Fix-It, Game of Thrones Spoilers, I'm Mad, Impregnation, Incest, Writing While Depressed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2020-03-02 18:40:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18816754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lewdsmokesoldier/pseuds/Lewdsmokesoldier
Summary: Let's fix that travesty of a Game of Thrones episode...with sex!Hire me, HBO. Happy late Mother's Day, I guess.





	1. A Continuation of Dany's Arc That Fucking Makes Sense

**Author's Note:**

> I could honestly write a long, long treatise on how this show fucked up this character. And I did on Discord! And will again. In the meantime, since the writers are in the business of treating female characters like shit for shitty reasons and this entire season is a rushed, unfocused mess, let’s try something different. Jon, instead of continuing his pattern of being the biggest fucking idiot on the planet, decides to fuck the depression, stress and rage out of Daenerys, since we’re writing porn where something like that might actually make sense, rather than a show that should know better than to rely on such a misogynistic concept. Am I doing a better job than the writers of the biggest show on television? Probably!

“Is that all I am to you?” Jon felt his throat clamp up as Daenerys stood, her fingers reaching toward him as he restrained himself from stepping back. Her lips were hovering over his, so close that he could feel her breath on his skin when she whispered. “Your Queen?”  
  
He hesitated again, even as she made to kiss him, tilting his head to meet her. Dany wasn’t doing well at all, that much was clear: she’d endured too much, in such a short span of time. Maybe it wasn’t right to do this, here and now, when she wasn’t making good decisions.  
  
To say nothing of the fact that she was his aunt, his father’s sister. And while he was aware that her family had a comfortable history with incest, Starks were...different.  
  
Then again, he wasn’t a Stark, was he? He was a Targaryen. Aegon Targaryen, heir to a name that was as foreign to him as the continent that Dany had established dominion over in a marriage of conquest and benevolence. He had been raised a Stark, but perhaps it was time to acknowledge who he was. He didn’t want the throne, but he wanted Dany, and no matter how wrong he’d been brought up to think it was, some small part of him knew that this was the best way. He’d never turn his back on his Stark heritage, no matter how many times he tried to shut out direwolves from his life, even ones that had saved his life many times over. He should probably apologize to Ghost when he got the chance.  
  
He was an idiot. He was a massive fucking idiot. Sansa had saved him from his own mistakes once before, and then Arya against the Night King. But neither of them were here now, and he had to fix his own errors in judgement and planning, and because of his dumbass decisions his sisters were actually detrimental to addressing the problem. If he wanted to salvage this, to make something good come out of the loss and fear and horror everyone had endured, he had to make a decision, a different kind than the ones he’d been making.  
  
Fuck blood ties. He didn’t want the Iron Throne, and he didn’t care for power, but trying for what he’d wanted had always cost him more than it was worth. He needed to change, and he needed to change now.  
  
So when Dany paused for breath, and Jon felt his Stark blood and part of his Targaryen heritage pull in one direction and urge him to stop, he pushed against it as hard as he could. His hands, coarse and worn from the many times he’d blocked a strike and taken one of his own, drifted up Daenerys’s back, digging into her silks and fumbling for buttons, clasps, anything that he might be able to pull to leave her body bare to his gaze once again. They found what they sought, and with a tug, a pop, and a delightfully hoarse moan around his lips from the woman now flush against him, Jon stripped her upper half naked, leaving her to step out of the rest of her dress of her own. Watching her rise up from the constricting layers of her clothing, reborn in all the radiant beauty he’d been so fortunate to see, was enough to convince him he was making the right choice.  
  
“Jon.” She started, leaning into his neck, a needy murmur against his skin. If she had anything else to say, she lost track of it when he slipped a finger forward and into her, his other hand struggling with his belt and tunic. Dany wasn’t in any shape to help him, her breath stuttering in response to the digit he was curling into her, but he didn’t want to spoil her fun.  
  
Mercifully, as her fingers clawed along his stomach and towards his legs, they caught on his unhooked belt and pulled down, bringing his trousers with them. The chill from the doorway made his the hair on his legs stand on end, but Dany’s hand drifting along his thigh and the sensation of how wet and tight she was around his finger was enough to get him hard. Slowly, his length stiffened and pointed upward until it was prodding her slit, jostling against his finger, and Dany grinned against his shoulder blade.  
  
“Good.” She sounded like she used to, warm and kind, removed from the tragedy that had wracked her time on this world and especially in Westeros. One of her free hands found purchase on his wrist, and he took the cue to slip his finger out with a soft _shlick_...and bring his cockhead to bear against the white-tufted folds of pussy.  
  
With a grunt of affirmation, Dany wrapped her arms around him, sidled back until they were leaning against the warm stone besides the fireplace, and rolled her hips, pressing her nether lips against Jon’s cock. He couldn’t have been given a more obvious sign of her approval if she’d begged him out loud to fuck her. Jon didn’t see any point in denying his Queen, his love.  
  
When he pushed inside, she gasped and dug her fingers into his shoulders, gently burying her nails into the skin. Not too deep, but enough that he knew she wanted more. She was exactly as slick and glowingly warm inside as he remembered. It felt like a lifetime ago since the two of them had made love, and they had time to make up for.  
  
Every time Jon thrust upwards and into her deeper, Dany’s hair tugged and snagged on the mortarwork, the flames crackling out-of-tune with the pumps of his hips while she kept her legs locked securely around his waist. Her back would be sore afterwards, but that was a small price to pay to affirm what they both knew. That they belonged with each other, making a new and better, more just world.  
  
And every dynasty started with an heir. Jon hadn’t intended to breed Daenerys, but if she was to be his Queen, it stood to reason that she’d need someone to carry on the line. Drogon was a fine son, but as far as Jon knew dragons couldn’t be kings.  
  
If Dany had any protests to this idea, she didn’t show it. To the contrary, her whimpers and muffled cries, smothered as she met his lips, drove him onward, encouraging Jon to keep fucking her with everything he had. She was tightening up around him enough that he knew she’d be close, but his own release would carry a deeper meaning.  
  
Her cry became a shriek into his lips, their mouths slipping from each other so that her voice was stifled by his beard, and her thighs tightened around his sides while her cunt similarly clenched down on him delightfully. Warmth, even greater than the fire near them, blossomed out from her depths all around him, and he refused to hold back.  
  
Fire could not harm them, but their heat was the last straw. Burying his cock as deep in Dany’s cunt as he could, Jon came, creaming her womb, painting her insides whiter than her hair and filling her up until he was certain she could take no more. But he refused to pull out, not yet, not when there was a chance he’d be able to go again soon enough. She had that strong of an effect on him, and especially on his cock and balls.  
  
Jon wouldn’t leave this chamber until he’d had another go at fucking a baby into Daenerys. Their child would herald the coming age of the world, one where the Wolf and the Dragon, united, forged a new order based upon their virtues. Of the power and justice that Daenerys had come to embody, and of his own experience in uniting disparate groups under common cause.  
  
Daenerys had been a wonderful mother, and she would be again. The bearer of Jon’s child, his Queen, and his love forever more.


	2. An Appropriate End to Dany's Character Arc

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Game of Thrones is over. It was a wild ride. Let’s sneak a peek as to how it might have ended.
> 
> (Jon/Daenerys, mating press, impregnation, writing while depressed)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a lot to say at the bottom of this story, readers. Feel free to skip, but I think it's worth reading.
> 
> For now, on to the porn.

"We did it.”

Jon allowed a thin smile to cross his lips as he beheld the Dragonpit. Last he had been here, he had been party to what was then the greatest parlay in generations. Enemies, allies, strangers and neighbors had come together to confront the reality that almost none of them knew about. That death was coming, and would devour them all.

It had seemed a simpler time then. The living against the dead, day against night, fire against ice. A clear-cut villain with a simple goal and brutish means. But things were never so easy, and ultimately the meeting had been a waste. A farce, meant to keep Jon and Daenerys’s forces off guard while Cersei plotted behind their backs, even if it doomed the continent to undeath. All the sacrifices made to make the diplomacy happen had been for nothing.

Now, he was back, and things were more difficult. Daenerys had triumphed brilliantly over Cersei, using her expertise in dragonriding to wipe out Euron’s half of the Iron Fleet, the scorpion ballistae mounted across the city’s walls, and the very gates of the capital. Drogon had laid waste to the Golden Company, the feared sellswords that Cersei had bankrupted the realm to bring over from Essos.

Things had been dicey. The city had surrendered far later than anyone had expected. Daenerys had been on the verge of a terrible, horrendous mistake, a hair’s breadth from betraying all the values he’d heard her embody, and come to know as true for himself. The loss of her closest friends and her children, the betrayal of trust and dereliction of duty in those she’d come to depend upon, seemed almost like it would break her.

But she was stronger than that. She knew that was not the answer. If she wanted the change she had spent her adult life looking for, she’d need to stay her course. So the Red Keep, that monument to Maegor’s cruelty and the symbol of the power she needed to break, was incinerated. Drogon’s fire melted the castle like clay, collapsing the towers as flames burst the brickwork into scattered shards and left it crumbling under its own weight. Cersei had not escaped. It was impossible to identify her among the rubble and molten slag but it mattered little. She was dead, as was the threat she posed to the reign of Daenerys Stormborn, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Lady of Dragonstone, Breaker of Chains, Mother of Dragons, The Unburnt.

The Iron Throne alone stood secure in the wreckage of past kings, somehow spared the destruction that had befallen the rest of the structure, the sole survivor of the conflagration, mirroring how the Red Keep stood alone as the single ravaged spot in the city. Save the walls and the main gate, King’s Landing had been spare.

Now, Daenerys and Jon strode through the seats of the Dragonpit, Drogon resting at its center, the two of them alone save for the most powerful being in the entire world. Even if dragons still lived in the lands past Asshai, they couldn’t compare to Drogon. He was a reincarnated Balerion, the greatest dragon that had ever lived, now reborn in the form of her sole surviving son.

This was the only chance they’d had to be alone since that night before the battle, when Jon had comforted her in her grief and rage, and she’d helped soothe the conflicting identity that raged within him. Riding the wave of their victory, many questions lay ahead, but they knew one thing for certain.

They wanted it again.

He bore her down to the ground, kissing along her exposed neck and cradling her head in his hands, stroking the braids in her silver hair. She returned his kiss with enthusiasm, gasping and moaning into his mouth while she pawed at his tunic. They’d had the chance to remove their armor after the battle, but were still far too overdressed.

When he unbuttoned her top, pulled her tits into the open, and kneaded them roughly, she leaned away from him to gasp. A deep, echoing growl told him that Drogon had heard his mother and he stiffened, still groping her chest, giving Dany a space to chuckle.

“All this time, and you’re still afraid?”

That gave him space to smile. “I don’t think I ever won’t be.”

“I suppose that’s your decision. But you have nothing to fear, so long as you don’t stop.”

“Of course, my Queen.” Jon smiled and leaned forward to kiss her again, feeling her hands quest down to unbuckle his belt.

His length flopped out, hefty and half-hard, balls eager to get to work pumping his cum into a wet, willing hole. He was eager to get to it, and Dany was eager to take it as she pushed him away, slid down her pants past her knees, then her ankles, then her feet. Her top was still half-on, but her silver-bushed pushed pussy gleamed with her arousal.

She wanted him to plunge into her, to fill her up as well as he had before, but he paused. Maddeningly, he paused, and in a moment of pure instinct she almost made good on her threat to call to Drogon. But then Jon, her sweet, dependable Jon pushed her legs up, towards her head, and lined up his cock to her dripping slit.

With a thrust, he entered her, and she bit her lip to stop from howling. They were alone, but she didn’t want to risk changing that, or chance worrying Drogon. There was nothing else important in this moment, nothing but Jon pushing his cock into her, thick and heavy and spreading her out _oh so well_ . He was just as steady as before, and just as caring, even as he flattened her legs farther up, her knees near her temples while she continued to stretch around his dick.

At last, with a final grunt, Jon was in her to the hilt, his heavy balls coming to rest against her upturned ass, and Dany was mewling in delight at how well he filled her out. They could stay like this, perfectly still, and she’d be happy, knowing that Jon Snow was atop and in her.

Fortunately, he wasn’t content to leave it like that. With a nod of assent, Daenerys braced herself as Jon withdrew his shaft halfway and then slammed back into her, a loud _smack_ of his balls on her buttocks echoing throughout the Dragonpit. Her nails dragged against the stone above her head as he went at her, pounding her with all the considerable force he could muster. Her tits swung and swayed with his momentum, moving in time with the rough, rapid flurry of thrusts.

She was warm and welcoming, Jon couldn’t imagine how he’d ever bring himself to pull out, even when he’d fucked all that he could. Dany’s cunt was simply too eager to suck him back in when he pulled part of the way out, then grip onto him when he drilled her deep, creating a lovely friction as he dragged against her inner walls, and she pressed down on his cock. It was difficult to stay quiet, but they managed, the thought as to what might happen if they didn’t keeping them from bursting out into cries of pleasure. The danger was more than a little exciting, especially compared to Dragonstone and fresh off the victory of King’s Landing, and spurred them on to a more furious height of passion. Her with her back scraping against the stone, and Jon atop her, mating pressing her into carnal joy.

In fact, the risk was almost too much. Between the feeling of Jon looming over her, the security of her victory, and how well she was getting reamed out by his dick, the added thrill of fucking so close to Drogon and all their allies was pushing her over the edge. The warmth that always coursed through her veins seemed to burn even hotter, her eyes flashed with hunger, and she came. Her nethers tightened and bore down on him, almost too strongly for him to keep going, but he did anyway, his teeth clenched in concentration, the drive to bring about his own climax as she had hers beneath him. She started to screech, to yell out her satisfaction to the world, but Jon stopped her with a hand on her mouth as he kept shoving into her.

So aggressive! _This_ was the Jon she’d be so amazed by, the one who could stare down the Dragon Queen, face the living dead, and tell off terrifying foes to their faces. The one who deserved everything in the world, even if he was content to not take it. The fogginess that pervaded Dany’s mind in the throes of her gushing blocked out any deeper thoughts, and she was content to wail beneath his hand while he took his pleasure.

_Smack smack smack_ went his balls, slamming against her ass, full of the seed that she longed to feel inside her.

_Thrust thrust thrust_ went his cock, stubbornly spreading her pussy even as it tried to hold him tightly while she came undone.

His breath rattled in his throat while he gripped her breast roughly, and then Jon blew. Thick, heavy ropes of cum fired out from his cockhead, splattering her nethers white with the fruit of his nutsack. He was still fucking her even as his cumshot painted her inner walls the color of her own hair, the mark of a ruler and a sovereign. The parallels were not lost upon her, even as Jon’s hips slowed, his dick coated in his own ejaculate.

His seed, born of wolf and dragon, was now comfortably warming her womb. The last time they’d been here, he’d suggested that she wasn’t as infertile as she’d thought, and after being creampied so well on Dragonstone she believed he might be right. Something had felt so... _fulfilling_ about that experience, and she felt it here, too.

Jon Snow, or, perhaps, Aegon VI Targaryen, as he might well be stylized, had sown his seed. She had reason to believe that the field was fertile, and the thought overjoyed her.

Jon leaned forward, replacing the hand on her mouth with his own lips, sharing a deep, throaty kiss that she returned enthusiastically. She had yet to decide on her fate, her future, and that of Westeros. And possibly the world beyond.

She had avoided catastrophe, thanks to her presence of mind staying consistent with how she had established herself to be, but this might not always be the case. She was destined the rule, but she would not be Queen of the Ashes.

Perhaps a solution could be found, but she would concern herself with that later. For now, she was too happy to stay with Jon, his cock still half-hard in her, his substantial cum locked promisingly within her womb. This made all the suffering, all the loss, and all the sorrow worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, Game of Thrones is finished. I won’t rage, at least not right now, but I feel incredibly sour about the whole thing. I suppose the fact that this series was able to evoke such strong emotions in me, even if they were negative ones, is a testament to its overall quality. More than once I swore I’d stop watching when a particularly depressing or violent thing happened, but I always came back. Both because of it being a shared experience, and because I wanted to see how things turned out.
> 
> I guess we’ve all reaped that whirlwind now. I don’t think it’s just excessive expectations, and I certainly don’t believe that people are upset just because of that or because fan theories didn’t come to pass. Entitlement isn’t the answer, and targeting the people who had nothing to do with the direction of the show (the actors, the set workers, makeup, costume, lighting, sound, and so on…) won’t do anything. Nor will hurling abuse at the writers do anything productive, as much as I hold them personally accountable for poor decisions steeped in, among other things, hubris and a lack of self-reflection. But there’s a profound sense of loss, of betrayal and disappointment. Nothing as big as Game of Thrones was ever going to end in a way that satisfied everyone, but this feels too much like every ball was dropped.
> 
> There’s a lot to discuss, about the whole thing, not just Daenerys. A whole lot. I’ll do that at some point, but the main thing for me to briefly bring up is that I’ll remember Daenerys as she was, the liberator, the emancipator and the crown jewel of the power of women during the height of the series. Denial isn’t useful, but I simply can’t connect what I’ve seen for the second half of this season with the Daenerys that was given to us for the decade preceding it. That wasn’t the Daenerys Targaryen we know, who has more titles than I can list here, and is the most just and empathetic character on the show.
> 
> The rationales provided for this reversal only makes it worse.
> 
> I just hope that future writers take some lessons from this. I’m listing a few, although I know they’re really only for my benefit since no one of consequence will see them.
> 
> Hire more female writers. Understand that foreshadowing is not a replacement for development upon these hints. Reflect upon the paths your characters are on and what proceeds from them, rather than changing them to fit a path that you want them to follow. Throwing in a few successes for women won't erase the generally unfortunate way the narrative has always treated them, even divorced from the setting. And understand the dynamics and messages that you’re sending, and how you’re presenting them, before you follow through on your plans.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who took the time to read this. I’ve got plenty more to say, and I’m happy if anyone is willing to talk about it.
> 
> I might do a larger attempt to revamp the final season (or two) and the finale, but for the purpose of this snap-decision tale, I left off right after my last Jon/Dany fic with all of Season 7 up to that point intact...including Missandei’s death.

**Author's Note:**

> Fuck the writers.
> 
> And hey, if you liked how I channeled anger in writing porn, take a look at my other stories. If you wanna cry over GoT with me, visit my [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Lewdsmoke).
> 
> I'm gonna go sob.


End file.
